“Hello?”
“Hi. I’m Robert Veres. I just wrote a terrifically funny book about raising children, and I thought that your publishing company—”
“Did you say funny?”
“Yes.”
“Who says it’s funny?”
“Everybody who has ever read it, and eighteen or twenty other people who didn’t have time to read it, so they just told me what they knew I wanted to hear.”
“Are you Dave Barry?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Then I don’t think we’re interested in your next book. Humor is the sort of thing where you actually have to be a good writer to pull it off, and here at the publishing house, we have no way of actually assessing whether you’re a good writer or not. It’s just too much of a risk.”
“But I– Wait a minute. Are you implying that there are subjects where you sell a lot of books, but the writer doesn’t have to be any good?”
“Oh, sure. If you were writing about one of those kinds of books, then I’d be really interested.”
“Like what?”
“Anything about celebrities just jumps off the shelves. Especially if you’re writing about the trashy reality stars.”
“Is that all?”
“Cats are very popular. If you write about cats, then there are certain people who will buy your book basically no matter what you say in the actual inside pages. The key there is to have a really cute cat on the cover.”
“I see. Maybe you could recommend something closer to my area of expertise.”
“Diet books. It’s pretty easy to sell a diet book, so long as you have some kind of bizarre gimmick that doesn’t require people to get off their butt and exercise or muster the discipline to eat less.”
“Is there anything else on your list?”
“Not much. Vampires are really big for some reason, and romance novels always find a huge market with women.”
“Wow. I had no idea publishing had gotten so formulaic.”
“You’ve seen what the networks do on TV. Why should book publishers be any different?”
“Let me look through my notes. I’ve got a new title for my next book. I think you might be very interested.”
“Trust me, I’ve heard it all.”
“Maybe not. It’s called The Reality Show Celebrity Diet Book for Cats and Romantic Vampires.”
“My god, I think I just wet my pants.”
“What do you think?”
“How about if I write you an advance on your royalties right now? I have the checkbook right here in my trembling hands. We can talk about an outlilne later, after you’ve finalized the purchase of that Mediterranean Villa that you’ll be able to afford once this check clears.”
“I’ll call my realtor in Provence right now.”
“Welcome to the 1%.”
